


You're Somewhere I Wanna Go

by AndreaLyn



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: F/M, Gender or Sex Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12266892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: As far as Faraday's concerned, making Vasquez pose undercover in a brothel is a bad, bad idea, though he's not sure why he's feeling so damn opinionated about what she can and can't do (which is a lie, he knows perfectly well why he feels that way).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a lyric from Eyes on You by Kings of Leon.

“Remind me why we’re here?”

Goodnight glances towards Faraday with an amused look all over his stupid face. It irritates Faraday, though that’s a feeling he hasn’t been able to shake since they took this job, and it sends him to shuffling and cutting his deck of cards with more vigor than before. The brothel is a noisy place around them and their bent sheriff is currently at a table by the piano, drinking and eyeing the place for his next target.

“We are here because Sam needs upstanding men to keep an eye out and _you volunteered_ ,” Goodnight replies. “Meanwhile, the lovely lady in our midst needs to glean information from the sheriff on account of his being more crooked than a broken elbow.”

Faraday’s teeth grind together and then he remembers why he hates this damn plan. The job had come to them through some deputies in town brought them a job, seeing as their sheriff has been running black market business out of the brothel and that they wanted to clean up the town and pitch him out. Sam had agreed to the job on the basis that they get some evidence of that wrongdoing, which meant getting inside the brothel. He’d tasked Goodnight with posing as a client, but they all knew that wouldn’t be enough to get the secrets out of the sheriff.

“Vasquez,” Sam had looked over at their tall outlaw, her face drawn to the earth as if she already knew what he was bound to ask. Faraday couldn’t help the ill feeling in his gut, not sure _why_ he’s bristling so much at their only female (what with Emma back in Rose Creek) being tasked to help out. “You in?”

“Do I have a choice?” she’d responded with little humor in her words.

At over six feet, a permanent layer of dust and dirt on her, and a penchant for men’s clothes, Faraday didn’t exactly know how in the hell they intended this to work, but the instant that she agreed to Sam’s stupid plan, Faraday had piped up and volunteered himself to join Goodnight as a patron. “Just in case,” he’d insisted. 

Now that he’s sitting here, shuffling his cards, he feels ready to snap every time he sees a man touch a woman a little too rough or slide a hand a little too far. It’s not like he’s innocent of the same behavior, but now that Vasquez might be on the receiving end of one of those touches, he’s going a little stir-crazy trying to figure out when they can get the hell out of here.

“Where the hell is she?” Faraday hisses, knocking back a shot of whiskey to try and calm his nerves. “The sooner we get proof the sheriff is dirty, the sooner I get to shoot something,” he says, the manic delight and anticipation of getting to kill someone beginning to rub at him. That, and he’s still worried that pretending Vasquez is some kind of whore is a plan that’s bound to go sideways.

If only Faraday knew how right he’d be about that, just not in any of the ways he might have expected.

“Careful, now,” Goodnight soothes, trying to infuse calm into the conversation. “You keep acting like that and a man might think you’re jealous.”

“I’m worried,” Faraday mutters, because it’s the truth and it also conveniently hides any other feelings he might be experiencing. “You really think Vasquez can pull this off?”

“She wasn’t born an outlaw in men’s trousers, Joshua,” is Goodnight’s advice on the subject. He leans over and taps Faraday’s hand a few times to subtly gesture over to the stairs. “There you are, time for Aleja to do her work.” 

Faraday glances up in time to watch the brush of dark green skirts sweeping the stairs, a corset done in tight around the bodice, revealing a figure that Faraday hadn’t even imagined possible underneath all those loose linen shirts and vests that Vasquez loved to wear so much. Her dark hair, usually pulled back in elaborate braids, is loose in waves past her bare shoulders, with kohl darkening her eyes even more, her lips stained red in the color of blood.

“You didn’t think she was born into that layer of grime, did you?” comes Goodnight’s mean jibe, learning forward as he shares a wicked smirk with Faraday.

Words are failing him, at this particular moment, and Faraday snaps the cards a little harder. 

The moment he’d laid eyes on Vasquez, Faraday had known he was in trouble. Well, truthfully, at first from a drunken distance, he’d figured he’d laid eyes on the prettiest man he’d ever seen in his life. Hadn’t been until he got closer that he’d figured out it was a woman in men’s clothing, hat making shadows where she wanted them to. He’s found her attractive since then, in too-tight pants, glimpses of smooth skin, the lean line of her neck, and the way those damn lips of hers around a cigar could make a man weep.

This is a new level of torture that Faraday had never considered, not solely because he can see what’s been hidden under those too-big shirts and vests and beneath that hat, but because she’s working the room and letting other men touch her.

“Let her work,” Goodnight murmurs, like he’s got a direct line into Faraday’s brain, though he’s never been good at hiding his feelings, so it’s probably all over his face. Faraday has to force himself not to stare as Vasquez flirts with the sheriff, inevitably letting him tug her into his lap so they can flirt and she can make ‘you’re so funny’ faces at him, laughing that low, husky sound that sounds so honest that it makes him feel sick.

“What if he doesn’t let anything slip?” Faraday demands, not sure he can come back here a second night and watch this awful show all over again.

“Foolish men love to let their secrets slip to beautiful women who pay them a little attention,” Goodnight promises, sipping from his drink. “She’ll get what we need.” The sheriff gets a hand on Vasquez’s ass, palming frilly lace and definitely part of her ass. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Faraday’s on his feet, hand near his gun. The only reason they avoid a shootout is because Goodnight swats at that hand and loudly says, “Another round of drink sounds like a fine idea,” brightly, glaring at him. 

Faraday manages to get himself together enough to pick up another set of full glasses of whiskey at the bar, but a blonde comes with him back to the table, clearly having picked up him and Goodnight as her next potential clients. 

“You boys having a fine time?”

Faraday is occupied with the constant stare at Vasquez, but Goodnight seems to have his wits about him. “Just splendid, my dear,” he responds warmly. The girl seems irritated with the fact that she can’t get Faraday’s attention, tracking where his gaze is before she lets out a derisive sound. Faraday keeps glaring at Vasquez and the sheriff, where she’s been in his lap for at least the last ten minutes and those meaty fingers of his keep brushing loose locks of her dark hair back from off her face. She keeps leaning in like she’s going to kiss him, and Faraday can’t tear his damn eyes away. Unfortunately, that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Of course, you want the Mexican cocksucker,” she mutters.

Faraday’s hand reaches out and grabs the blonde’s wrist with strong fingers, holding on a little too tight (not that the girl seems to mind, judging by the way she pushes her body forward into the touch, eyes widening with interest). He can see Goodnight leaning forward, like he’s ready to intervene, but Faraday doesn’t need charm to get out of this situation so much as some firm force.

“Don’t call her that,” he warns.

“Why not? Mouth like that, you know she’s good for it.”

Instead of shooting her in that pretty face of hers like he wants to, Faraday gives her a smack on the ass to get her to leaving, the sound dragging other people’s attentions, but notably, Vasquez’s, who sees what he’s done, an angry expression flickering over her face as she throws herself back into the job with more determination than before. Faraday’s not exactly doing so well now that he’s got the image of Vasquez’s mouth wrapped around a dick in his head, mainly because it’s far from the first time he’s thought of it.

It’s just the first time he’s let someone remind him that those lips could be wrapped around someone else’s, which hauls that jealousy right back up and makes Faraday stare it keenly in the face for what it is. He doesn’t look at Goodnight but he hears the disapproving sound the other man makes, feeling more irritable for it. 

“When we get back to camp, maybe you and I ought to have a discussion about using your words,” Goodnight drawls.

“I’ve never used words in my life when action can do something.”

Goodnight gives him a pointed look. “So why the hell haven’t you done anything?” he demands. “Don’t play this like you’re not interested. Blind men could see it, even before this, so what the hell is wrong with Joshua Faraday that he can’t take the damn shot,” he spits at him, and that’s not just good-natured teasing, but a sharp edge to it that sounds a whole hell of a lot like bitter revenge for the days leading up to Rose Creek. 

Faraday lands a murderous, accusatory glare on Goodnight, half pleased that he’s got a reason to pick a fight, but before he can do that, he sees Vasquez leaving the sheriff’s lap out of the corner of his eye. His chest is heaving with angry words not spilled and the bitterness trapped in his gut, but he shuts up because the last thing they need is attention on themselves. 

Faraday keeps a steady eye on her movement as Vasquez drifts through the room, purposely aimless. She stops at the piano player to exchange a few words, then approaches the bar to get a bottle and three glasses, glancing around the room like she’s trying to pick her next clients. Her sights zero in on Faraday and Goodnight and while he knows he ought to be relieved that they’ll probably be out of here soon enough, there’s a show to keep up so that the sheriff doesn’t get suspicious. 

It’s probably lucky timing, too, given that if she leaves them alone, Faraday is bound to give in to his more idiotic thoughts and pick that ill-advised fight anyway.

“Thanks for the bottle, _guapo_ ,” Vasquez address Faraday directly as she comes to stand between himself and Goodnight, setting the alcohol down and, without warning, dropping her skirts down into Faraday’s lap as she straddles one of his thighs, dragging a strangled cry out of Faraday’s throat. Where she is happens to be particularly problematic, seeing as she’s definitely not going to miss the strain of his dick against his trousers from where she is.

Vasquez doesn’t comment on it, though, just drapes an arm around Faraday’s shoulders and presses in snugly until her body is flush against his, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“News?” Goodnight murmurs from behind the rim of his glass.

“He has a shipment of weapons, drugs, and people,” Vasquez replies, absently playing with Faraday’s hair as she speaks, looking all the world like a whore cozying up to a client even if she’s actually passing along information.

Faraday ought to wonder why she’s in his lap and playing with his hair instead of Goodnight’s. He’s sure that if he did, there’d be some pretty heavy evidence about why that’s important, but his idiot brain has decided to turn tail and run, leaving him putty in Vasquez’s hands as she slides her fingers through his hair, nails dragging gently against his scalp. His arm around her waist tightens a little, adjusting her skirts so that they cover every part of her from ankle to hip, though the bodice doesn’t give her a chance of modesty. 

He can’t take his damn eyes off of her, especially not when Vasquez stares back at him and it feels like the rest of the room fades away and all the noise and the idiots hollering aren’t enough to tear his eyes off of her. 

“They’re going to be coming into town in a few days, he’s very proud that he’s going to make a bigger profit than usual because of the people, he’s never done that before,” she says, shivering when Faraday gets daring and slides his splayed palm over her waist, up her spine, and tangles in her hair at the back of her neck, like he’s about to coax out a kiss.

Really, he just wants to know what her hair feels like when it’s let loose like this. It’s soft, thick, curling over his fingers as he plays with it, earning a hitched little moaning sound from Vasquez’s lips, which are pursed in surprise.

Goodnight lets out a rueful laugh, shaking his head like he’s just heard the world’s greatest joke.

“We should reconvene with Sam,” Goodnight says, ever the sensible voice.

Faraday stares up at Vasquez, not sure he’s willing to let her go just yet. Right now, he can pretend that she’s just some girl that he’s going to charm into his bed, that they don’t ride alongside five other men that make privacy impossible, that she actually would ever give him a chance like that.

“ _Guero_ ,” Vasquez murmurs softly, when he doesn’t let go, but instead only tightens his hold on her and makes a noise of discontent at the very idea he might need to release her. “I need to get upstairs and change.”

“Can’t have people thinking you could ever look nice,” goes his stupid idiot mouth, earning a glower from Vasquez as she forces her way back to her feet. It’s a miracle he doesn’t get slapped, truthfully, but at least they’re back to normal, with him pushing and tugging on those pigtails of her and Vasquez giving as good as she gets.

She storms off for the stairs, though she does take the time to blow a kiss and a wink to the sheriff, enough that Faraday’s hand drifts to his gun in the event the lawman considers following her, but he stays rooted in his chair, turning his attentions to the other girls now. Watching Vasquez head back up the stairs with her hips moving just enough to swivel the skirts, a heated look thrown over her shoulder directed straight at Faraday, he knows that he is in capital-T trouble. Knocking back the rest of his drink, he catches Goodnight staring at him with a knowing smirk on his lips.

“Why, Mr. Faraday,” he drawls, “I do believe you seem somewhat twitter pated.” 

If that means he’s going to need another ten minutes before he can walk straight, then yeah, then Faraday believes he’s more than a little of that big word of Goody’s. Goddamn Mexican troublemaker, taking his whole world and flopping it upside down and opening up doors that Faraday had handily locked when he’d first laid eyes on her.

Vasquez just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“Shall I fetch some cold water before we head outside to meet up with our fine companions? Including the lovely Miss Vasquez?”

Faraday feels the hot rise of shame in his cheeks, but he still mutters an embarrassed, “Please,” seeing as he’s going to have to come face to face with Vasquez again soon, back in her usual clothes. It’s not that he doesn’t find her attractive in them, only, he’d managed to train himself not to react with his dick when he watched the way her linen shirt hung too loose sometimes to reveal no undergarments below or the way her pants hugged too damn tight to her ass.

Letting his forehead drop to the filthy table beneath him, Faraday lets out a pathetic keening sound, aware that his lot in life is hardly a terrible one, but damn if it isn’t going to make things on the road plenty hard for the foreseeable future.

Goodnight is back soon enough with a cold glass of water and a reassuring clap on his back. “Come on, let’s go give Sam the news. If you’re lucky, the man might even let you do all the shooting.”

Faraday is pretty sure that his luck either ran out or started the minute Vasquez walked down the stairs, but he says nothing about that out loud, dragging himself to his feet and marching outside towards the inevitable. Maybe Goodnight’s right and he’ll end today with someone else’s blood on his hands. That’d be a real nice change of pace, not to mention it’d make him feel better about the fact that he’s pretty sure he just pissed off the woman he wants to woo and his chances with her just got shot to hell.

Yeah, Faraday decides, shooting something will definitely make him feel a whole lot better about this day.


	2. See You On The Flip Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vasquez POV and continuation of part 1

“This is a terrible fucking idea,” Vasquez says, staring at her reflection in the mirror, showing her a stranger that she hasn’t seen in months.   
  
Ever since the incident with the ranger, Vasquez has been wearing men’s clothes with no brassieres and too-big shirts and vests to hide her true sex while she heads out on the road. It’s the same look as is on the wanted posters, because that’s the last time she’d been seen before she’d gone on the run. They’d etched her down with her hair in braids and a hat on top of them, looking more an outlaw than a woman. Still, she stubbornly refuses to let the bounty on her head force her back to  _this_.  
  
Still, staring at herself dressed in whore’s clothes while other prostitutes flit around her and she stares down at herself makes her half-sick.  
  
This is what the ranger had found so appealing. It’s why he had come onto her, intending to have his way with her. The bastard hadn’t been expecting Vasquez to be carrying one of her pistols and for her to put three bullets through his head for his presumption that she was nothing more than his to fuck.   
  
Now she’s back in feminine clothes with her face painted heavily, but for a good cause.  
  
Vasquez tells herself that she can get the information out of the sheriff in no time and be back to normal.  
  
She also tells herself that Faraday and Goodnight will be there for backup, in case she needs help. No one is going to put their hands on her the way the ranger had, because the others won’t let them. Faraday, she knows, won’t let them. The shiver that runs through her as she thinks about him is a problem.  
  
Other than the $500 on her head, it may just be the biggest problem in her life right now.  
  
He’s rude and insulting and annoying and smokes too much, is too full of himself, but he’s also handsome and funny and a great shot with a gun, drinks as much as she does, doesn’t care about how much dirt is on her face. She goes to sleep thinking about his big hands and wakes up cursing the dreams she has of him in the night, looming over her, touching her, bringing her to life in a way she hasn’t felt since she went on the run.  
  
“Next girl,” says one of the girls as she heads upstairs, giving Vasquez an opening. She stands and adjusts her corset and her lipstick before she heads downstairs, her gaze settling on Faraday as she descends, seeing the exact moment that he locks eyes on her. There’s surprise there and approval that she can’t spend too much time thinking about.   
  
Taking her time, she sidles up to the sheriff with a look of interest, settling in his lap when he grabs for her, thanking every saint that she’s not wearing her guns because the immediate instinct she has when his hands are on her are  _shoot_. She inhales and glances to where Faraday is sitting with his cards, thinking of him.  
  
How she managed to fall for an idiot like that, Aleja will never know, but she imagines being with him and turns to the sheriff to start charming him, playing along like she might have if they were strangers. He’s too handsy by far, but he also happily gives up his information. It’s almost pathetic how predictable stupid men are, but even so, when he leans in and whispers that he wants her for a price, Vasquez is more than grateful that she has an excuse waiting.  
  
“I can’t,” she says, acting like she’s genuinely disappointed about this.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because I was already paid for,” she tells him, leaning in to whisper the words to him, letting him have at least this much so he doesn’t think he’s been had and comes after them later. “The man with the cards. Green eyes,” she says, “he paid to have me for the night.” She could have said it was Goodnight, but no, apparently, she’s willing to give up her secrets and her desires to a stranger they’re trying to arrest. Her eyes stay on Faraday as she watches him dismiss another whore with a slap on her ass, trying not to feel the frisson of jealousy.  
  
“That one?”  
  
“He doesn’t want her,” Vasquez says, sure of it. “Just to be sure, I should pay a visit,” she says as she stands and leans down to stroke her fingers through the sheriff’s sweaty hair, watching how he nearly folds at the touch.  
  
Later, when Faraday does nearly the same thing when she touches his hair, she has to wonder if maybe she doesn’t have a magic touch or maybe it’s just that the men she’s around are desperate for touches. Of course, Faraday also goes ahead and ruins everything by insulting her just when she thinks they’re making progress, as if he hasn’t been staring all night. Casting a glance back to the sheriff on the way up the stairs, she lets her eyes linger on Faraday until she’s upstairs.  
  
It’s only when she’s out of sight that Vasquez feels like she can breathe again.  
  
Outside, changed back into her usual clothes and braiding her hair into a fishtail that she pins up at the base of her neck, she feels Faraday’s fingers on her cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair back in with the others she hasn’t missed. For a long moment, Vasquez stares at him and wonders if he’s shaped up, if he’s going to say something, but then he clears his throat and heads off as he mumbles an excuse about heading over to hear about the plan.  
  
Stupid stubborn asshole.  
  
Why did she have to go and fall for him? No, she can’t even think about it because then she’ll start to wonder why she fell for an asshole who won’t make a move and that’s just a bad path to start down.

****  
  
She and Faraday still haven’t spoken about what happened in the brothel, which suits her just fine. It’s awkward and Vasquez isn’t sure that she’s ready to deal, head on, with the fact that she knows that Faraday is interested in her, at least physically. He also hasn’t come to her with any offers or any romance, which means that Vasquez starts to give up on him. After they finished the job with the sheriff, they start to make their way back to Rose Creek, stopping in the next town over.  
  
With the buildings on the horizon, Vasquez inhales sharply and knows that she needs to change before they head into town as she always does, otherwise those bounty posters of a dirty outlaw woman in men’s clothes are going to bite her in the ass. Bundling up the dress in her hands, she can feel Faraday’s eyes on her as she heads into one of the tents, but he says nothing. He doesn’t follow, and she can feel the frustration begin to build up, making her angrier than before that he doesn’t do anything.  
  
(She’s handily ignoring that she’s not saying anything either, but some things are hard to shake, and she needs for Faraday to prove that he won’t be just like the ranger, after nothing more than her body)  
  
Stepping out of the tent, her braid hands loose down her back and she’s wearing a plain, drab paisley dress that says ‘housewife’ more than it does ‘outlaw’. It’s a simple defense mechanism, but one that’s been working so far.  
  
Once, offhand, Faraday had commented that if she really wanted protection, she could always take his name, play Mrs. Faraday, because there’s no better protection than acting at being his wife. Only, the way he’d said it sounded like he’d be doing her a favour, that she ought to be grateful, and her instinct had been to spit at the ground beside him, tell him she didn’t need his pity.  
  
“Ready?” Sam asks her, to which she gives an assured nod, buckling her gun belt back on, because she might be dressed to hide, but she’s not going in unarmed. She waits for Faraday to join her at her horse’s side, the way he always does when they ride into a town, but he’s not there.   
  
The absence is both telling and it hurts more than she expects it to, trying to keep her chin high as she tells herself that their mission in the brothel hasn’t ruined everything. She waits for Faraday to bump into her as they dismount, waits for him to offer her a smoke, but nothing happens. Instead, she watches him head off with a deck of cards to the bar, trying not to feel like the entire world has changed.  
  
It’s fine, she tells herself. Maybe it’s even better to avoid the trainwreck the two of them would inevitably be, together. That’s what she keeps repeating to herself as she heads into the bar herself, sitting at a stool so that she can keep her back to Faraday while she orders a tequila, not paying attention to Faraday’s quickly-drunkening tones as he holds court at a poker table.  
  
She also doesn’t leave, though, because maybe she’s supposed to be the one to make a move. Half an hour later, Faraday hasn’t even so much as said ‘boo’ to her, the noise at the table getting progressively louder. She flinches at the rousing cackle of delighted laughter from Faraday as he wins another hand, deciding that’s the last straw and she’s going to see if Billy or Goodnight could use company when she sees someone out of the corner of her eye.  
  
At a glance, she might have imagined it was Goodnight. He looks similar, from his fashion sense, but he’s younger by at least ten years and there’s no greys streaking his hair. His eyes are blue, his hair dark, and there’s an amused smile on his lips.  
  
“I know our little town can be raucous, but at least let me buy you a drink before you go flinching at us,” he says to her, proving that he also has big words in common.   
  
Vasquez instantly likes him, because he didn’t come onto her by praising her beauty or falling over her. She tugs the stool beside her over and gestures to it. “It’s not your town that’s a disaster,” she promises. “It’s the Irish bastard that rode in with me.”  
  
“Joshua Faraday, was it?”  
  
“The very same,” Vasquez grumbles, wishing it didn’t sting so much that Faraday is already over there making friends while he’s ignoring her. “And you are?”  
  
“Jonah Miller, miss,” he says with a nod of his head, taking the stool beside her. “And you?”  
  
“Aleja,” she says, always grateful that the wanted posters only ever captured her last name. It gives her the freedom to sneak into towns and hide in plain sight. She watches as he takes her palm and gently raises it to press a brush of a kiss to her knuckles, dropping it the moment after in one of the sweetest, politest gestures she’s seen since Goodnight did the same to her, when he’d been three cups into his whiskey. “Maybe this town isn’t so bad?”  
  
She can feel the heated stare Faraday is giving them, but Vasquez archly swivels her chin up as she stares across the room at him, a look in her eye that says, ‘ _do something if you don’t like it_ ’, but Faraday only stares for a long moment before he goes back to dealing another round, making her heart sink into her chest.  
  
Turning her attention to Jonah, Vasquez decides that she deserves better than the cold shoulder, and that she’s got that chance right in front of her.  
  
“So,” she says, putting Faraday completely out of her mind (at least, as far as he’ll go). “What else should I know about you and this town?” It’s a distraction, but a good one, and right now, she’s selfish enough to take it.

****  
  
Jonah is possibly the kindest man she’s ever met.  
  
He’s handsome, clever, polite, and sweet. She should like him, no? He’d ridden with them to Rose Creek after their stay had ended, his interest in Vasquez clear. Even when she’d dressed in her usual clothes, he hadn’t seemed to care, smiling fondly at her while he set her hat on her head and commenting that he wished he wore his vest as well as she did hers.   
  
The trouble is that Vasquez feels nothing. The spark that she always feels with Faraday is missing and she finds that she ends up talking with Jonah about her recent life events (avoiding the bounty, of course). It’s weeks later when Jonah calls her out on something that even she hasn’t noticed.  
  
“You talk about him a mighty lot,” he says, while they’re waiting for drinks at the saloon in Rose Creek.  
  
“Who?” She has to play dumb, has to, because he’s getting too close to knowing the whole truth.  
  
Jonah gives her a disbelieving look. “I know you’re smarter than that,” he chides mildly. “Faraday. I’m not typically a jealous man, but in the three weeks I’ve known you, he’s the only topic I think comes up once a day.”  
  
She bristles as she sits up straighter, on high alert. “It’s only to complain,” she protests, because it is. “He’s a gambler, an asshole, with awful jokes, and rude about Mexico, and…and…” She’s faltering, because now she’s trying to remember what she might have said, what her actions and her looks might have said without her meaning them to.  
  
She’s breathing quicker, the edge of panic rising, because Jonah is forcing her to face things in the eye that she’s been trying to ignore. She’s supposed to fall in love with a good man like him. She ought to be looking at him and seeing the prospect of the future, but instead, she’s spent most of their time together complaining about the man she can’t get out of her head.  
  
Jonah is looking at her kindly, the bastard, because he’s far too good for her. Since she met him, Vasquez has known that much.   
  
“In my experience, when a woman speaks that much about a man, it’s usually because she can’t get him out of her mind, for better or worse. Now, I know the way you talk ought to be for worse, but damn if I don’t hear that fondness in your voice with every word. That’d be more than enough, but I can also see the way you look at him.”  
  
Right now, Vasquez suspects the look on her face is vulnerable, and she needs that to stop.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she says.  
  
“You say that, but in five minutes, I think I’m bound to hear another Josh Faraday story,” Jonah replies. “I just need to know if I’ve got a shot, Aleja. I’m not asking for your hand, but I need to know that you’re considering me seriously. It’s fine if you’re not, on one condition.”  
  
“One condition?”  
  
Jonah nods, leaning in to take her hand into his, sharing her space like they’re about to tell secrets. “That’s right,” he agrees. “You promise that if I’m not right for you, you have to at least go after him, give him a shot at being that man. We’re not all so handsome and assured as I am,” he teases. “Some of us are mouthy assholes who are good with guns and cards, but bad with women.”  
  
Heart beating wildly faster, she’s not sure that she’s ready to make a decision just yet.  
  
The trouble is, that her hesitation seems to be enough for Jonah to read the answer. “I like you, but I’m not ready to fight for a woman when her heart is already with someone else.”  
  
“I’m not…”  
  
“You don’t love him?”   
  
Vasquez wants to lie, she so badly wants to lie. The trouble is that Jonah has been kind to her and deserving of so much better than her.   
  
Jonah’s smile is sad as he lifts her palm to his lips again, an echo of when they met. This time, though, it’s a goodbye. The next morning, he rides back to his town and despite Vasquez knowing that she could never have grown to love him properly, it stings as she watches him go. She stands there on the outskirts of town for a long while alone, but eventually, she’s joined by Goodnight.   
  
“I feel as if I should be insulted,” he says.  
  
“What?” Vasquez demands bluntly, confused.  
  
“Man had excellent taste in literature and clothing. Here I thought maybe you’d developed better taste.”  
  
Vasquez is already grumpy and Goodnight isn’t helping. “Shut up and come buy me a drink,” she says. “I deserve it.”  
  
“He leave because of Faraday?”  
  
She whips her head around to glare at Goodnight for the comment, but her reaction has likely already spoken for itself. “What do you know about that?”  
  
“I know that a certain Irish bullheaded man has been desperately asking for tips on wooing a smart, gorgeous woman who appears to be attracted to men of good fashion and literature tastes,” he remarks, which is a funny joke, because Faraday has barely said five words to her since they returned to Rose Creek and definitely hasn’t been trying to show his appreciation. She snorts derisively, shaking her head. “Well, then,” Goodnight keeps going, interpreting her silence, “appears I ought to have a talk with young Joshua. Come on, Aleja,” he says. “Let’s get you a drink.”  
  
****

Days later, Faraday shows up to the bar wearing what looks like it came from Goodnight’s wardrobe. Vasquez can’t help the way she stares at it with disgust and annoyance. “You look ridiculous,  _guero_ , go put your filthy gambler’s clothes back on.”  
  
“The fuck are you talking about,” Faraday snaps at her. “I thought this was what you liked!”  
  
_You_ , she thinks, as she stares at him.  _I want you_.  
  
She doesn’t say it out loud, only wags her finger at him to disapprove of the clothing, and gestures for him to head back up to the rooms. “Go make yourself look like Josh Faraday again,” she says. “You look ridiculous right now.”  
  
Faraday stares at her like she’s lost her mind, but he stomps back upstairs to change. She can  _feel_  Goodnight lingering at her elbow and without looking, Vasquez sets her glass of tequila on the table, shaking her head.   
  
“Did you give him that advice on purpose?” she asks.  
  
“I thought perhaps you appreciated Jonah’s clothing.” Goodnight sounds like he’s absolutely taken advantage of the situation and dressed Faraday up like a doll, which Vasquez has to appreciate, so after she’s done sniggering with amusement into her drink, she sets the empty glass on the counter and rises to her feet.   
  
“Leave it alone,” is her advice.  
  
She’s not sure what she plans to do, but she’ll get there somehow. Maybe. Or maybe until then, she’ll just enjoy whatever it is that Goodnight advises Faraday to do. At least she’s got control of all of this. 


End file.
